


Naked Sunday

by ThereminVox



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 09:47:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15682947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereminVox/pseuds/ThereminVox
Summary: A little piece with John and my OC to complement another fic.





	Naked Sunday

 

 

John grabs her ass with reverence, kneading a smothered moan from her trammeled lips. He relished the muffled utterance, leaning down to press his own to the offending fabric, melding appreciative outline to the shape of her Cupid's bow. The slight yet firm pressure had Dibé mewling, despite her stubborn resolve. She wished she could see the way his lips curled severely in the cloaked moonlight, savoring the teasing taste of his lips through the cotton, before offering a tingling kiss to his cheek, courtesy of her back hand. 

 

 

Softcore shibari was the best she could call the state he’s imposed on her, embracing under a starless night, water rising to the waist in the lake he’s issued countless baptisms. A full course meal (thanks to the inexperienced hands of the man himself) had been prepared for the ungodly hour but she could at least see one positive from his unexpected veering of plans. His hands had expectantly been experienced in other pressing matters and effortless dexterity revealed itself as his fingers slip with ease through the rope binds hugging her wrists in tropical twist.

 

 

Lily pads drifted around at a leisurely pace, disturbing the durable placidity with burbled ripples. A stray leaf brushes against her pulse as the rope slinks away, sinking silent into the water’s murky depths. The downy graze of its touch sparks a curious thought as her mind is spared ample breath from the muggy and unforgiving heat of twilight. Summer was her least favourite season and she’d often condemn anyone who enjoyed it as being that one asshole who abused free trials before claiming permanent residence in the fiery pits.

 

_Can’t tell me to ‘Go to hell’ when I’m already there._

 

Her unofficial husband would have an been an ironic seraph severing the flames. An incubus, marauding about with angel wings.

 

Their relationship was forbidden, to say the least.

 

“When you suggested we go out for a midnight stroll, I was expecting just some casual conversation, holding hands, walking that nice little trail near the ranch.”

 

Without saying a word, he turns her around, lean chest pressing firm against the back of her head. He held out on awarding her with the wondrous view of nature, if the blindfold still secured by knot was anything to go by.

 

“There’s a perfectly nice lake at the end of that path where we could’ve had some wine and wafers, a lovely picnic with some possible food play…”

 

Resting against her exposed shoulder was the tip of his slightly untrimmed beard as his arms encircled her hips, nose nuzzling into the crook of her neck with tickling breaths. She was amazed he wasn’t uttering expletives at the sight of her silk slip being drenched. A housewarming gift, exclusive to a certain sugar daddy in the making.

 

“This could’ve been a normal date! But instead, you decide it’d be fun to gather up some Peggies and have them invade the ranch like an amateur SWAT team. And who happens to be the main culprit? Yours truly, of course. Then there’s  _you_ , still marinating in the restroom with your usual smugness, but naturally  _I_ wouldn’t know because I’m busy being dragged off with a potato sack over my head, thrust onto the truck bed of a pickup, driving off to God knows where, only to end up alone with you, which would be nice if you weren’t  _literally_ pulling tricks out of your sleeve, i.e.  _not_ the general idea of bondage I had in mind.”

 

A muted hum rumbles against her slender throat and she fails to suppress a shiver when his lips trail around the shell of her ear.

 

“Is this not what you wanted, bird? Seems you’re having enough casual conversation for us both. And I thought the view would be nicer here.”

 

Her cheek muscles inch up in the ghost of a smile as she knows what view he’s referring to.

 

“You made the right choice not destroying my YES sign.”

 

_Of course._

 

“Ever the flair for dramatics”, she responds, rolling her eyes against the fibers.

 

As if he had read her mind, he moves to release her, leaving the caramel hue of her skin bared once more to lunar radiance as well as admitting a sudden yearning for the return of his warmth. She felt appreciably underdressed relative to the man behind, clad in his usual attire, who was presently occupied with freeing her obstructed vision.

 

“ _Relax_ , dear. I’ve had my best men prepare that dinner so, rest assured, it hasn’t been  _completely_ ruined by my hand. Our picnic should be awaiting us.  _After_ we’ve taken that midnight stroll, of course.”

 

It had been dark for so long, she had to adjust a bit to the peaceful illustration, taking a moment to relish that brief absence of lurking omen before turning to find a right arm outstretched, palm upturned in gesture of requesting her hand.

 

“Suffice to say, the appetizer was nothing short of ambrosia.”

 

She raises her left brow in questioning, heart tugging at the fervent grip of their now coupled hands.

The unexpected blush rising to his ears had merely been the icing on the cake.

 

 

“Forgive me for feeling a little touch starved.”


End file.
